


darling, we're a greek tragedy

by renhyuck (thereisnoreality)



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - 1950s, Alternate Universe - Spies & Secret Agents, Cold War, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-19
Updated: 2019-07-19
Packaged: 2020-06-25 02:53:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,578
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19736878
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thereisnoreality/pseuds/renhyuck
Summary: Donghyuck nods. "Well, I hope to see you back sometime, Renjun." He smiles. "You have to get rid of all the strawberry milkshakes that no one ever orders.""Ahh, I've caught onto your plan," Renjun says knowingly. "You just want to make money off me, don't you?"Donghyuck takes a step towards him. If it had been anyone else, Renjun would have snapped to attention, would have readied himself for a fight, would have responded to a decade of training that had taught him to be ready for attack at any time. But for some reason, he doesn't feel that with Donghyuck. How strange. "With that smile, sweetheart," Donghyuck says, an echo of earlier that evening, hand hovering in the air as if to touch Renjun’s face before it drops back down. Donghyuck smiles. "You can have anything you want for free."





	darling, we're a greek tragedy

**Author's Note:**

> a few notes before we begin!  
> \- first of all thank you so much to the prompter for suggesting this prompt i saw it and was so immediately taken, I knew i had to write it and I hope you enjoy reading it as much as i did writing it!  
> \- secondly, this is a story set during the Cold War in america and so the story and the character's thoughts reflect that time period about certain places and organisations. please know that nothing that's written reflects my thoughts or the people that these characters are based off in any way - this is purely fictional. also for the sake of the story just assume that homophobia didn't exist in the 50's.  
> -thirdly, please listen to the [playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/1U3GQXIDaltykEPnHGj7RM?si=2s226Tc9QWin_c1XL7Nnbw)  
> -lastly and mostly, i hope you enjoy!

America is nothing like the Soviet Union. That surely must be a given to anyone with half a brain and a solid set of eyes, but Renjun felt the need to emphasize it in his diary, underlining the sentence in black ink before pulling back to survey the page in its entirety. Of course, it’s not like he could keep a whole page of his life lying around, detailing everything from his escape to his current hide-out, for if he wanted to see another day, there shouldn’t be a soul alive who knew where Renjun was from. And so every night, he burned the previous day’s pages - a waste certainly - but it helped Renjun to write everything down. It cleared his head, a way of relieving his frustration; and once Renjun wrote something down he never, ever forgot it.

America is _nothing_ like the Soviet Union. It is bright, happy at all times, and too colorful, sometimes in places where colour need not exist. This was not to say that the Soviet Union was not a happy place -in fact, Renjun had loved his life back home, had been loathe to leave it behind - but it was a different type of happy. America’s happiness reeked of fakery. It looked _too_ bright, _too_ good, like it was hiding something rotten under its sweet candy coloured wrapping.

Renjun’s home was much more truthful; it didn’t quaver from the harsh realities of life, it didn’t hold back. And it had been the only place he’d loved, _would_ ever love. Or so Renjun had thought.

🃏

“What can I getcha, doll?”

Renjun blinks away from the cotton candy pink menu to look up at a waiter arching an eyebrow down at him, bubblegum in the midst of being ballooned out from pouty lips. He was sitting in the definition of a stereotypical American diner, having stumbled in half out of curiosity, half out of hunger. The seats were a pretty sparkling vinyl and the walls a pale pink. There was a breakfast bar by the cashier where gleaming silver stools were placed, and by the entrance, a jukebox - the same shade as the waiter’s gum - that was crooning an old Billie Holiday song. It was all perfectly idyllic and the cynic in Renjun wondered what it was hiding.

The waiter raises an eyebrow in a silent sign of impatience, and Renjun clears his throat, looking back down at the menu and making sure his accent doesn’t slip before he starts talking. “Can I get a strawberry milkshake, please?”

The bubblegum pops. “You don’t look like the type of guy to order something so sweet.”

Renjun casts a look down at his gray suit and smirks wryly. “You don’t look like the type of guy to call a stranger ‘doll’.”

Dark lashes flutter sweetly in his direction. “Anything for a tip. It’s a hard world out there.”

Despite himself, Renjun smiles. It feels foreign arriving on his lips, like a long lost relative showing up at his door after a decade of being near-forgotten. He doesn't remember the last time he'd smiled. "Can I get pancakes too?"

Pink lips curl up into an unbearably sweet smile. "With that smile, sweetheart, you can have whatever you want."

The pancakes were a bad decision. Renjun winces at the over sweetness of the milkshake which - combined with the whipped cream piled high atop the golden stacks - was really starting to hurt his tongue. He'd never had something so over-indulgently fattening and sweet back home, but Renjun supposes that was America in a nutshell.

"Here." A small plate filled with fried potato patties is set gently on the table. Renjun looks up to see the pretty waiter again, tilting his head in silent question. The waiter smiles. "You looked like you were struggling, the salt and oil will help."

"In my experience, salt and oil always helps," Renjun says, and is rewarded with a sweet laugh, the sound filling his ears and making his ears grow hot for a second.

"Especially when covering potatoes," the waiter agrees with a charming grin, before turning to leave.

"Wait," Renjun blurts, and then curses himself for drawing attention to his little corner in the restaurant. He needs to stop standing out so much, it's getting more and more dangerous for him to remain here and he can’t afford any more suspicion than he already gathers. The waiter turns back to him, an expectant look on his face. "Would- would you like to eat with me?" There’s a beat of silence where the waiter doesn’t respond, and Renjun flushes in embarrassment, hurrying to explain. “I- I just mean, this an awful lot of food and I’d hate to waste it all.”

The waiter considers, and in that moment, insecurity rears its head. "Or- never mind, that was a foolish question."

The waiter's eyes flash, and Renjun thinks he's given himself away, thinks his accent had slipped out too much to hide himself forever, but then the expression vanishes to make room for a sweet smile.

"I've still got customers," he says, pointing his pen around the restaurant. Renjun starts to blush and rushes to take back his words, but the waiter cuts him off before he can. "No - we close in an hour, keep my seat warm for me." And with a final wink he walks back to the kitchen.

Renjun considers being offended at the implication that he doesn't have anywhere to be in the next hour, but decides against it. He is getting company out of it, after all. And potatoes. Both of which he had been very sorely lacking the last few years of his life. Potatoes especially.

He spends the next hour people watching and intermittently sketching on the notepad he carries around. He becomes absorbed into his final sketch of his imagination of what the lion would have looked like from a series he'd picked up last week, parsing through the English in difficulty. So absorbed that he doesn't notice the restaurant slowly shutting down around him.

He only looks up when half the lights have gone out across the room, and sees the waiter walking back towards him, eyes bright despite there being no light pointed in his direction.

"Won't you get in trouble?" Renjun asks, clearing his throat to rid himself of any hoarseness that came with not talking for the better part of an hour. "Letting a customer in after closing time?"

The waiter smiles. "I own this place," he says lightly, sliding into the opposite seat from Renjun and pushing a brand new plate of steaming hot potatoes towards Renjun. "You're lucky the boss is very forgiving."

"Indeed," Renjun agrees, another smile passing across his face when the waiter pulls the stack of pancakes towards himself, fork at the ready. "Won't those be cold?"

The waiter levels a serious look at him. "What you need to understand, mysterious customer, is that pancakes are good at _all_ times and my pancakes especially, _never_ taste bad."

Renjun smiles, digging into the fresh plate of potatoes, closing his eyes in quiet pleasure when the salty goodness hits his tongue. His smiles seem to come easy all of a sudden; how strange it feels to have his lips stretch in something that is not a snarl. "I'm Renjun," he offers quietly.

It's dangerous to use his given name. Especially on American soil, where he's sure he is a very well-known and highly sought after adversary. But Renjun had operated under an alias the entire time he'd been active, and there is no one left alive who knows he was born as Renjun Huang, the son of a farmer and a teacher. No one left alive to know who he was before his hands started to drip blood and his eyes reflected all the atrocities he'd ever seen. No one except one, and that person is unlikely to find Renjun here.

"Ah, not so mysterious anymore," the waiter sighs, fishing a strawberry piece out of the whipped cream, now melted down into white streaks across the pancakes. "How disappointing."

"Would you have preferred I kept my identity a secret?" Renjun asks curiously. What an odd wish to have.

The waiter gazes at him, hand dropping back to the table. There's something dark in his eyes, something Renjun is unable to parse out. "Identities are rarely real, anyway," he says lightly, looking down at the table before flashing a brilliant smile at Renjun. "You could be feeding me lies, for all I know."

"I could," Renjun agrees, shrugging. "These are dark times." Thieves and spies lurked around every corner, and not for one second since he'd arrived, had Renjun felt safe. He doesn’t know what madness had led him straight into the enemy’s arms, but something had pulled him to these dangerous shores. Maybe it was the fact that Sicheng would never think to look for him here. Outside, the street lights flicker on, reflecting off the waiter's honey skin oddly.

The waiter's smile fades just a smidge, turning more smug and knowing. "How morbid of you to say so, Renjun."

Renjun blinks, his smile the only outward sign of his surprise at the waiter referring to him so casually. "Do you disagree?" He asks instead.

The waiter shrugs, cutting off another piece of pancake and chewing on it thoughtfully. "Not particularly," he says. "But does that mean we have to discuss it like this? With hushed voices? Looking around like we are about to be struck down at any second? And on a night like this, especially."

"What's so special about tonight?” Renjun muses, looking out the window. There's a couple exiting the jewelry store opposite the street, and the woman laughs in delight, hand flying up to catch her hat before it flies away in the wind. The night is bright, the streetlights casting an orange glow down onto the pavement below, and above the cement and brick buildings, the moon hangs, swollen and silver.

"We met, didn't we?" The waiter's question has Renjun looking back in surprise. The waiter smiles, more flirty this time, and it sends something slow and viscous trickling down Renjun’s spine. "I tend to look at every new meeting as an act of serendipity."

Renjun takes a moment to contemplate the simple prettiness of that statement before summoning up all his courage to ask his next question. "Can it be considered a meeting when I don't even know your name?" He's certainly not as at ease as the waiter, and it comes out nowhere near as smooth or as charming as it had when directed at him. But somewhere in Renjun's stumbling query, he must have charmed the waiter because he smiles, impossibly beautiful, and props his hand up on his chin.

"My name is Donghyuck Lee," the waiter says. "It's very nice to _meet_ you."

Renjun stares at his outstretched hand for a moment before shaking it. "Likewise," he says quietly.

They leave the diner sometime past eleven, and Renjun waits for Donghyuck to lock the front doors before walking with him down the street. Donghyuck's restaurant is in the busiest part of the city - _a lucky stroke_ , he'd explained to Renjun when Renjun questions about the difficulty of acquiring such a spot - and they make their way to the main square, walking in comfortable silence.

"I suppose this is where we part ways," Donghyuck says lightly, shoving his hands in his pockets when they come to a stop under the neon signs that light up the main square. Donghyuck looks unnaturally beautiful lit up by the lights, almost like the fairies Renjun had spent last weekend reading about. The closest sign, a dark purple and blue thing advertising new colas, reflects off his face the strongest, turning his cheekbones into swords of steel and his eyes into portals to different universes. Renjun wonders if stepping too close would get him hurt.

"I suppose so," Renjun agrees, looking away from the glowing advertisements to gaze at Donghyuck. "Thank you for the meal, your food is truly delicious."

"It was nothing," Donghyuck dismisses with an easy wave of his hand. "Where do you live?"

"Oh, some ways down 20th," Renjun answers evasively. He can't go around giving away his address to any stranger, not when he's sure the FBI and the CIA and many other organisations with ridiculous acronyms were looking for him. Perhaps he should have never spoken to anyone from the moment he arrived, should have never even come to these shores. But as the saying went, _keep your enemies closer_. And Renjun, at this moment, was in the belly of the beast - as close as he could possibly get.

Donghyuck nods. "Well, I hope to see you back sometime, Renjun." He smiles. "You have to get rid of all the strawberry milkshakes that no one ever orders."

"Ahh, I've caught onto your plan," Renjun says knowingly. "You just want to make money off me, don't you?"

Donghyuck takes a step towards him. If it had been anyone else, Renjun would have snapped to attention, would have readied himself for a fight, would have responded to a decade of training that had taught him to be ready for attack at any time. But for some reason, he doesn't feel that with Donghyuck. How strange. "With that smile, sweetheart," Donghyuck says, an echo of earlier that evening, hand hovering in the air as if to touch Renjun’s face before it drops back down. Donghyuck smiles. "You can have anything you want for free."

🃏

A fortnight later finds Renjun wandering the city, certainly very lost. He’d gone to the local library that morning, getting lost in the stacks and finding all sorts of new books to struggle through. Every time Renjun started learning a new language, he began with books, and this time was no different, despite English being a beast of a language that had arbitrary rules and made no sense more than half the time.

But now, clutching a very heavy bag of books and staring up at the street signs with desperation, Renjun had to admit he was well and truly lost. Sicheng would murder him, right now. Would have _killed_ him for losing track of his surroundings. Indeed, Renjun would have never done so before; less than three months away and he’s already losing his touch. How fickle and weak the human brain was.

Renjun frowns down at his feet, considering. He doesn’t feel comfortable asking for help quite yet, and had learned the hard way that in these times, in these cities, people were less likely to take kindly to you if you looked differently from them. So Renjun shifts his bag to his other hand, casts a glance up at the street sign, memorising it before setting off down the sidewalk again.

He spends another ten minutes wandering around the city, grateful at the very least that it’s fall, edging into winter. If it had been summer, Renjun would have given up and destroyed his meager budget for the next week just for a cab ride back to his apartment.

Just as he’s about to give up, Renjun looks up and spies a familiar confectionary pink sign in the distance. He squints at it, sighs, and then walks forward. He hadn’t been back in two weeks despite Donghyuck’s warm insistence when they’d last seen each other. It’s mostly because Donghyuck unnerves him, more than he’d like to admit. Just that short meeting was enough for him to crawl under Renjun’s skin, painfully sweet and too distracting, for Renjun to allow himself to return, to willingly submit to Donghyuck’s charm again. But against all odds, he had found himself back here again.

“Renjun!” Donghyuck greets delightedly, from where he’s perched on a stool by the cash register, glasses perched on the edge of his nose, having turned around when the bell atop the door jingled merrily to announce Renjun’s arrival. “You’re back!” Donghyuck hops off the stool to greet him and wrinkles his nose good naturedly when he draws near. “And sweaty.”

“And horribly lost,” Renjun admits, dropping his heavy bag in the nearest empty booth with a relieved sigh. “I was about to give up and just call a cab.”

Donghyuck’s eyes widen exaggeratedly. “They would have taken you for all you were worth,” he tells Renjun conspiratorially, sitting down across from him, and motioning to one of the workers. “Daylight robbery is what it is.”

“I’m hardly worth that much,” Renjun tells him, though he doubts any run of the mill cabbie would be able to suss out his sordid past in a ten minute drive.

Donghyuck raises an eyebrow at him. “I don’t feed my pancakes to unworthy customers.” He says lightly.

Renjun’s lips twitch into a smile that feels unused and heavy. It had been a quiet two weeks without anyone’s company, and Renjun’s not sure he spoke more than a handful of words the whole time, let alone smiled once. There must be something different in Donghyuck’s restaurant that puts Renjun at ease so quickly. If it were anywhere else, if Renjun had been on one of his assignments, he would have chalked it up to drugs - in the air or the food. But he doesn’t think drugs are the issue here.

He doesn’t notice Donghyuck having ordered for him, too lost in his own thoughts, until a large chocolate milkshake is set down in front of him, along with a hefty pile of fried potatoes.

“You looked hungry,” Donghyuck explains when Renjun tries to protest. “Besides, I’ve been fiddling with my milkshake recipe and I need an unbiased opinion.”

Renjun slumps, pursing his lips and eyeing the straw pointing his way. “And the potatoes?”

Donghyuck grins, leaning over to cut off a piece for himself. “You can never have too many potatoes,” he says cheerily, popping it into his mouth. Renjun follows the motion of his lips for a second, transfixed, before realising what he’s doing and straightening, well aware that his cheeks have turned pink.

“Do I get these for free too?” He asks. It’s meant to come out cautious, maybe a little bit playful, but it comes out far too coy. Far too flirty. In embarrassment, Renjun ducks his head, sucking down a lot of the shake in his haste to look away from Donghyuck’s intent gaze.

“Drop me a smile, sweetheart,” Donghyuck says sweetly. “I’ll give you the whole world for it.”

Renjun’s blush comes out in full force and Donghyuck’s eyes darken, a pleased expression settling across his pretty features and in that second he looks no less than a predator, ready to swallow Renjun up whole. Renjun’s pretty sure he’d allow him.

The look in his eyes stays with Renjun until he's lying in bed, having checked all the locks on his doors and windows three times to make sure they're secure. Renjun turns his head sideways, away from his bedside table where his gun lies to stare up at the ceiling.

Dangerous. He's playing a dangerous game. Donghyuck's eyes linger in his mind even after he closes his eyes and drifts off to sleep.

🃏

He wakes up in a gray room.

When Renjun tries to get up, he’s slammed back down into the chair by the cuffs to his wrists and ankles. The chair clatters loudly back on the floor and Renjun turns around wildly, trying to see a way out. The room is circular, a single door facing him, the walls made of gray steel, and Renjun knows, somehow, with a gut curdling certainty, that they're soundproof. That no matter how much he screams, no one will hear him.

There's a step behind him and Renjun turns around just in time to meet a fist to his jaw.

" _Do you know where he is?"_

Renjun raises his head, panting, shaking his hair out of his eyes, his jaw throbbing and his head spinning from the force of the blow. He can feel blood dripping down his split lip, and for a second, his vision has spots. It takes him a second to realise the voice is speaking Russian, and in that second his blood goes cold.

" _I don't know anything,"_ Renjun snarls, struggling against the bounds as his assailant rounds him again, heavy heels clicking against the cement floor in an incessantly maddening beat. How did they find him? How did they know where to look? " _You've got the wrong guy._ "

There's a low laugh and it echoes around the room, slamming off the walls. It makes Renjun shudder in his seat, goosebumps breaking out against his skin. He swallows, trying to calm himself. Trying to remember Sicheng’s lessons. " _You expect me to believe that? How stupid must you think I am?_ "

The boots walk back around and Renjun raises his head to see -

Himself. Renjun gapes at his own face, glaring down at him, twisted into a vicious snarl. How is this possible? Was this a new technique? Meant to drive him out of his own mind? It wouldn't work - Renjun was certain. He steels himself, clenching his jaw.

_"Don't want to talk?_ " Renjun's twin asks him, raking a hand through Renjun's hair to yank his head painfully backwards. He gazes down at Renjun before smirking and patting his cheek just shy of a slap. " _That's fine. You'll break sooner or later. They all do._ "

The last thing Renjun sees is own fist coming at his face and-

He shoots up in bed, panting, knife in hand ready to fight an opponent that only exists in his head. Renjun stares at the sun rays streaking across his floor in the warm morning and tries to calm himself down. His shirt is soaked through with sweat and his heart is hammering hard and fast, threatening to beat out of his chest. Outside, a car horn beeps, and Renjun flinches, grabbing the gun off the table in his other hand on instinct.

He stays there, heaving for air, staring out the window until his breath comes easier and his hand loosens enough to drop the knife at his side. The gun goes back on the table and Renjun stares at the gleaming metal for a beat before looking away.

He climbs off his bed, hunting for the cigarettes in the back of his pants pocket and lights one up, pushing past the curtains and unlocking the windows to lean his elbows on the windowsill as he takes a long drag. It takes a few minutes for the drug to do its work, and Renjun takes a shuddering breath when his shoulders finally loosen and his heart slows down. He takes another drag, staring down at the street from his fifth story window.

He remembers that interrogation so clearly, as if it had happened yesterday, because he had been the one to conduct it. Renjun remembers every single time he'd stepped inside that room, ready to destroy and beat and draw blood if it meant they'd break. If they'd give him the answers he needed to bring back to his superiors.

He takes another drag, blowing the smoke out in a thin stream and considers the people rushing below, ignorant of the world around them and constantly worrying over the simplest things. How foolish of them, to pretend as if the world wasn’t poised to implode in on itself any second.

The man had broken. Of course he had, Renjun hadn't been who he was without being the very best. He had broken, but it had taken several hours and several bones sacrificed to do so. To this day, Renjun doesn't know if he'd survived it. He tries to tell himself he doesn't care.

🃏

Months later, when Renjun finds himself back at Donghyuck’s diner on one of his weekly visits, he does so extremely sleep deprived. The nightmares had continued, intermittently showing up night after night, week after week, until Renjun had stopped bothering to go to bed at a normal time, instead choosing to stay up and exercise in his tiny apartment until his body couldn’t hold itself up any longer, collapsing on his sofa more often than not and sending him into sweet oblivion. But whatever good the exercise would have ultimately done him was immediately negated by the half pack of cigarettes he was making his way through every day.

Donghyuck is sitting in his corner booth, frowning over what looks like bills when Renjun slides into the booth opposite him. Renjun doesn’t think he’s become such fast friends with anyone else in his life, but it comes so easily with Donghyuck he doesn’t bother fighting it. Doesn’t ever want to _lose_ it. They’ve spent the better part of the last few months together, Renjun hesitant to grow close to someone he’ll most probably have to leave behind, and Donghyuck incessantly charming and far too magnetic for Renjun to escape his gravitational field.

“You look busy,” Renjun says by way of greeting, sliding out a pack of cigarettes and going to light one. He stops at the frown Donghyuck directs at him.

“No smoking in my restaurant,” Donghyuck chides, and Renjun sighs, sliding his lighter back. Donghyuck tilts his head at him, eyes sweeping over him - a quick up-and-down motion that has Renjun internally squirming. “You look like hell.”

“Thanks, sweetheart,” Renjun drawls, settling back in his seat. He doesn’t think he’s gotten Donghyuck’s easy, charming way of speaking quite down yet, but he’s much better than he was when he first entered the States, when he couldn’t string together half a sentence in unaccented English to save his life. But Renjun hadn’t risen to the top of the ranks at home by being unintelligent. Now he’s sure he could pass off as a native American if judged purely on his voice. His superior would have been proud. Or perhaps not; Sicheng always had been a cold hearted bastard. No ounce of sentimentality would make Renjun think otherwise.

“No, really,” Donghyuck insists, setting his pen down. “Have you not been getting any sleep?”

Renjun shrugs. “I get enough.”

Donghyuck frowns, leaning forward, and Renjun doesn’t manage to hold in his flinch when the pads of his fingers trace gently under Renjun’s right eye. “Your definition of enough seems to be lacking.”

Renjun hums, letting him continue his ministrations. He can’t remember the last time someone touched him like this, or touched him _at all_. His work certainly hadn’t left much room for companionship. It feels strange to have another’s hands placed on him in a non-violent sense.

Maybe it’s the strange sense of peace Renjun gets around Donghyuck, or maybe it’s just Donghyuck’s pretty face, but the next words come out of his mouth unbidden. “You know how there are some things in your past you can never escape?”

Donghyuck’s fingers pause and Renjun opens his eyes to look at him, fearing he’s said too much. Donghyuck is looking at him, something unreadable in his eyes. Renjun goes to pull away, but before he can, Donghyuck speaks. “Are those things keeping you from sleeping at night?”

Renjun sighs. “Among others, I suppose, yes.”

Donghyuck’s expression smooths out into a bare flicker of a smile. “Well then, you are very lucky to know me, Renjun Huang.”

Renjun tilts his head. “Why?”

“Because I have the cure to your insomnia,” Donghyuck says, drawing back and picking up his pen again. The skin under Renjun’s eyes tingle. “And, in general to most of life’s problems, I think.”

Renjun raises an eyebrow in silent question, but Donghyuck merely smiles at him and doesn’t say any more, going back to his papers instead.

Renjun spends the better part of the evening sipping on a vanilla milkshake - he likes them better, they’re less sweet than the strawberry ones, and less harsh than the chocolate ones - and staring out the window, trying to keep from falling asleep against the windowsill. He brought a book with him, a new bestseller that had hit the market, denoting the danger of books. Renjun snorts as he imagines books being burned to protect the public’s ignorance. How very Machiavellian… Sicheng would have enjoyed it.

Donghyuck raps his knuckles on the table in front of Renjun when he starts putting away the files, startling him out of his thoughts. “Ready to go?”

Renjun sucks down the last dregs of the milkshake, wincing when it makes a loud noise over the low level conversation filling the diner. “Where are we going?”

Donghyuck’s grin is blinding yet soft, and Renjun allows himself a second to revel in it. “To find you some inner peace.”

🃏

It’s a Friday night, which means the city is teeming with people bustling back and forth - shopping bags clutched by manicured fingers, movie tickets hanging on by a thread out of tweed suit pockets. Renjun doesn’t understand how the world seems to go on with their lives, enjoying themselves and laughing without a care in the world, when they all could be facing danger at any time. When they all could be killed at any time. It’s an admirable thing to do, if not incredibly foolish. How American.

Renjun slides a hand down his pant leg surreptitiously as he finishes tying his shoelaces, checking that his knife is still strapped there before getting up and following Donghyuck down the street.

Donghyuck links their arms together and cheerily points out the good restaurants to eat and the movies they should catch before they disappear.

“I love Casablanca,” Renjun offers when Donghyuck is in the middle of raving about his favourite classes. He hadn’t seen many movies back home, but Casablanca had been one that had found its way to their shores and Renjun had had a free weekend where he’d travelled to the nearest city to catch a rerun of the movie, a decade late. It had taken his breath away, and Renjun remembers sitting in the dark of the movie theatre, long after the credits had scrolled past, wondering if love really made someone so selfless that they could give up their whole world for the safety of another’s.

He still doesn’t understand, truthfully.

Donghyuck looks over at him, confusion flashing in his eyes before it clears. “Oh, I love that movie,” he says softly, turning a corner. Here, the stores are less flashy than the bright white lights of department stores and neon advertisements they had just left behind.

“Where are we going?” Renjun asks in confusion when they turn another corner, an alleyway this time, the smooth pavement transitioning into cobblestone and brick walls.

Donghyuck’s smile is a secret melting away into the dark. “Here.”

They come to a stop in front of a single wooden door, the outside unmarked and the wood peeling and splintering at the edge. Renjun casts a look at Donghyuck, who merely opens the door and gestures him forward, into the dark. Renjun swallows, his heart kicking into high gear. He could be walking head first into danger, willingly, and doing so only because Donghyuck had smiled at him.

What a fool he is turning out to be.

He would have been long dead if he’d behaved this way back home.

The stairs lead downwards to another door nestled in the heart of the building, and when Donghyuck knocks on it, there’s shuffling before the door opens to reveal a small crack.

“Password?” A gruff voice asks, and Donghyuck grins.

“Alibis,” he whispers, and a chill skitters up Renjun’s spine. Does Donghyuck know? He couldn’t possibly. Renjun takes a step back, bracing himself for attack, cursing himself for getting in the habit of leaving his gun at home, but when the door swings open, it does so to reveal - a bar.

Renjun blinks incredulously at Donghyuck, experiencing something close to whiplash when his heart stutters to a stop. “Is your solution to find me inner peace getting me drunk? Because I’m not entirely fond of the idea of relying on alcohol for the rest of my days.” However numbered those might be.

Donghyuck rolls his eyes. “Go inside, won’t you?”

The inside of the bar was warmly lit and spoke of decades of secrets hidden away in the plush couch cushions. There was a raised stage, only a few feet higher than the floor that the furniture was pointed at, and currently a pianist sat there, playing a gentle melody that swam around the room, enticing the audience into a daze.

It was almost like a scene out of a movie; sweet and something out of a dream.

“Quickly, let’s find a seat,” Donghyuck murmurs, pressing a hand to the small of Renjun’s back, guiding him through the maze of chairs. “It’s going to start soon.”

Renjun tries not to flush as Donghyuck’s hand briefly wraps around his waist before pulling back as they find an empty couch, big enough to fit the two of them, by the side of the stage.

“What’s going to start soon?” He turns to ask, but Donghyuck has disappeared, weaving his way to the bar for drinks. Renjun presses his lips together to control the warmth invading his cheeks and turns his attention to the stage where the pianist is wrapping up her stage.

A band starts setting up in her place and Renjun watches them, confusion mounting every second. Why had Donghyuck brought him here? Surely he didn’t think music was the cure-all to Renjun’s problems. Renjun didn’t understand why his nightmares had started up again - they’d stopped the day he’d left the European continent - but he doesn’t think _this_ is going to make them go away again.

“Here,” Donghyuck returns with a glass of amber liquid, gleaming in the warm golden lights that surround the bar.

Renjun brings it up to his nose and carefully sniffs it when Donghyuck looks up at the stage. It doesn’t smell of anything, but poisons also didn’t have to have an odor to kill. Not that he thinks Donghyuck would try to kill him - not until he finds the damning evidence anyway. Renjun sets the drink on the table untouched and flashes Donghyuck an uneasy smile when he looks over. He still doesn’t feel entirely comfortable around Donghyuck, but that is more a product of his own instincts and caution than it is any off-putting qualities Donghyuck may have.

“How is this supposed to help?” Renjun whispers, leaning in so he can breathe into Donghyuck’s ear so as to not disturb the other patrons.

Donghyuck turns to look at him and it’s all Renjun can do not to draw back. A faint smirk settles on Donghyuck’s face at Renjun’s surprise, and his hand surreptitiously comes up to pat Renjun on the knee, sending a hot flush slowly rippling over his body, starting from the head down. “Trust me, sweetheart,” he whispers slyly and as if he’d planned it, like they were actors in a play, the lights dim, the hushed conversation around them cuts out, and the band begins to play.

When the music starts, it’s… Renjun doesn’t have the _words_ , not in Russian, not in English, not even in his rusty Chinese to describe what it sounds like. It’s jazz, he knows that at least, but the effect it has on him is… indescribable.

His eyes become fixated on the bass player standing closest to them. He has his eyes closed, head slightly leant against the scroll as his fingers dance across the strings, a separate entity from the rest of his body. It reminds him, in the worst way, of home. It transports Renjun back over the freezing sea, over ancient cities, over mountains, back to his home - back to his farm with his parents still alive, what his life had been like before he’d taken Sicheng up on his job offer - before he’d transformed into an utterly different person, so much so that when Renjun looked in the mirror, he sometimes didn’t recognise himself. That life felt like it was a universe away now - just as far away and just as impossible to return to. The music does all that and more, and Renjun allows himself to wade in it, lets himself be swept out to sea, lets himself drown.

He doesn’t know how long they play, because the songs meld effortlessly from one to the next, but the next thing Renjun realises, when the band pauses to take a short break to sip at some water, is that he’s crying.

“Renjun,” Donghyuck whispers, shocked, and Renjun turns to glance at him, blinking for what feels like the first time in hours and dislodging the tears that had welled up in his eyes.

“Oh-” Renjun says, scrubbing at his cheeks. “My- my apologies. I’m- I didn’t realise.” It’s the most ineloquent he’s been in Donghyuck’s presence, but he can hardly find it in himself to care as more tears take their place. He doesn’t remember the last time he’d cried. Maybe when he was a child, maybe the last time he’d seen his mother. Tears were a long, distant, forgotten memory and Renjun had forgotten what it had felt like. To feel his throat close up, to feel his chest hurt from something he’d learned how to control years ago.

“No, don’t apologise,” Donghyuck murmurs, and his hands come up to replace Renjun’s, gently brushing them aside. He sweeps his fingers slowly across Renjun’s cheeks, wiping the tears away, a thousand times more softly than Renjun had, but his touch still burns against Renjun’s skin. “Music has a powerful effect on the best of us.”

Renjun can’t suppress the snort. He’s hardly the best of anyone, but he can’t deny the pure and simplistic _beauty_ that came from listening to music played by people who held a love for it.

“Don’t do that,” Donghyuck says softly, and his hand comes around to cup Renjun’s cheek, gentle and delicate. No one had ever touched Renjun like that. Like he was something to treasure. “Don’t dismiss yourself like that.”

Renjun meets his gaze squarely and feels his breath cut short when whiskey eyes bore into his own. For what seemed like the hundredth time that night, Renjun blushes. But before he can do something stupid like lean over and kiss Donghyuck, can spill all his secrets to him, can expose him like a live wire for Donghyuck to cut away, there’s an announcment at the mic. Renjun doesn’t hear it, his brain still recovering from the music, from the shock of crying, from Donghyuck’s touch, but Donghyuck does.

He pulls away with a wide smile, and suddenly, Renjun’s cheek feels bereft, as if exposed to the cold winds of Siberia without proper cover. “Ah, now for the second part of finding your inner peace.”

Renjun watches in confusion as Donghyuck climbs up to the stage, taking the mic in hand.

“Good evening,” he says sweetly into the mic. “My name is Donghyuck Lee. I’ve been a uh- rather longtime patron of this bar, and it’s mostly because of these nights where they let ordinary people like me show off on stage for a song or two.” A ripple of laughter, and Donghyuck smiles. “I fought very hard to get the first slot today, because I’ve got this friend, you see, who’s got a lot of struggles in his life.” He locks eyes with Renjun for half a second before turning back to the crowd, but that short glance is enough for heat to rush up Renjun’s body. How does Donghyuck affect him so? Renjun has murdered and tortured and done unspeakable things in the name of his country without blinking an eye. So how is it that this waiter, with long eyelashes and the prettiest lips, turns him around and wrings him inside out with a few sweet words and lingering gazes?

“This one is a favourite of mine,” Donghyuck murmurs, smiling as the piano starts up slowly behind him, a cinematic accompaniment to his narration. “I hope that you all also get some peace out of it.”

When he opens his mouth, Renjun’s own mouth drops open, a breach of neutrality that only seems to occur around the damnable Donghyuck Lee.

Donghyuck’s voice is lovely. It’s very clearly untrained, as he struggles with the more difficult runs of the song, but overall it has a wonderful effect on the audience, and Renjun observes some straighten in their seats, pleased smiles wafting over their faces. Somehow, Renjun, listening to Donghyuck sing, his eyes closed and hands wrapped delicately around the mic stand, realises what Donghyuck had meant by ‘inner peace’. Something settles in his chest, something that had been screaming at Renjun all these months to _run, hide, do something, anything, you fool_. And Renjun settles against the back of the sofa, and just listens.

“Your singing is lovely.”

Donghyuck looks up from the rain-slick pavement in surprise, hat tipping off his head in his movement. Renjun moves to catch it and ends up with his hand plastered to the back of Donghyuck’s neck, the hat caught between his hand and Donghyuck. Donghyuck startles, eyes going wide before breaking into a laugh. “You’re so fast,” he says admiringly, hand coming up to take the hat from Renjun. Renjun flinches when their hands brush and backs away as quickly as he can.

Donghyuck’s eyes curve up prettily as he smiles in amusement, but Renjun can’t bring himself to feel any embarrassment about it. “Thank you,” Donghyuck adds. “It’s been a while since I had actually gotten up on that stage. I was nervous.”

He didn’t _look_ nervous and Renjun tells him so. Donghyuck laughs and moves sideways to link their arms together. The weather is getting colder and Renjun had forgotten his gloves, too used to the bruising weather of home that he hadn’t realised America’s winters would be just as harsh.

“Did it help, though?” Donghyuck asks sweetly, and Renjun hums consideringly. He can feel the ache in his lungs and the itch on the pads of his fingertips for a cigarette, the fear of whatever new horrors his brain had conjured for him tonight, but it’s diminished slightly by focusing on Donghyuck.

“I’d like to think so.” Where this new optimism had come from, Renjun has no idea, but he’s sure it has something to do with whiskey eyes and soft laughter. “We’ll see tonight, I suppose.”

The rain shines off the pavement, and Renjun deliberately steps in a shallow puddle to see the city’s image in it waver and splinter, the buildings rippling out towards the edge. Fracturing like a dream.

Donghyuck insists on walking Renjun back to his apartment, claiming that it was on the way - and it was, sort of, but it required quite a large detour for Donghyuck which he claimed he was happy to do when Renjun pointed it out.

“Thank you for tonight,” Renjun says when they come to a stop at the front door to his apartment. It’s an old brownstone Renjun had been lucky to catch before it had slid into another’s waiting hands. Extremely lucky, given that he hadn’t had much time in between his resignation and his departure from Europe’s cold shores.

“Thank you for trusting me,” Donghyuck says with an odd look in his eye. “I’m glad it helped you, even if you’re not sure quite yet.”

In the darkness, it’s easier for Renjun to admit what he’s known for a while. He should be more wary. He should be on his toes, shouldn't reveal himself like this. But the night is a tricky thing; it makes you feel safer than it should. And Renjun doesn't quail at the thought of the dark, he revels in it.

“ _You_ helped me," he admits softly, and Donghyuck's mouth parts in surprise. "I owe you a lot."

Donghyuck had helped him acclimate, had made him feel like a real person after so long, and not someone who was just a paper doll, ready to obey his puppet master's orders. How dangerous it was, to feel _human_ again.

"Renjun," Donghyuck breathes, stepping closer, his eyes flitting restlessly over Renjun's face as if he can't stop looking at him. It’s an odd sensation, having someone who did not quaver at having to look Renjun in the eyes. "If I may be so bold as to ask you something?"

Renjun lets him move closer, doesn't pull back this time. "Yes?"

Ever closer, Donghyuck's hand comes up to cup Renjun's cheek, just as he'd done before in the club. But this time, in the empty street, Renjun feels more exposed, and this time he knows Donghyuck can feel the heat that blossoms on his cheeks. "Renjun," Donghyuck whispers and his expression knocks the air out of Renjun's lungs. "Can I kiss you?"

It's dangerous and treacherous.

Renjun can't bring himself to care.

"Yes."

Renjun's first kiss with Donghyuck is soft. He shuts his eyes the moment Donghyuck moves toward him so he has no way of telling what Donghyuck looks like or what he thinks of Renjun doing so, which is a very big shame because Renjun thinks Donghyuck truly is the prettiest thing to grace this graceless earth. He has to remember this. Has to memorise it so that even during his darkest days - which will almost surely follow given the nature of his profession, and the nature of his relationship with Donghyuck, now rocketing downhill at an ever increasing speed - he'll be able to treasure it.

His eyes are shut so all he has to go off are his other senses and Renjun is nothing else if not methodical.

Touch is the easiest, because it is the sense Renjun has felt the least, at least in this sense, and it is the one he feels most keenly. Donghyuck's hands are soft, one on his cheek, the other sliding around his waist to hold him closer. Taste is the next easiest category. Donghyuck tastes like the bubblegum he chews relentlessly, sweet and overwhelming, and the whiskey he’d drunk earlier that night, seeming to almost sting Renjun’s lips. Renjun's hearing is heightened, listening to every sound Donghyuck makes, but he flushes when he hears his own gasp, thready and half shocked when Donghyuck sweeps his tongue over his lower lip, wickedly self-assured and tempting. It's only when Donghyuck pulls back, only when he takes a shaky breath, inhaling the cold night air, that he realises how much Donghyuck's scent - something that reminds Renjun of icy Russian nights, of Medovukha, all honey and fire, of waking up to fresh snow covering his open windowsill - had enveloped him.

"No, wait," Renjun gasps out, hands already reaching for Donghyuck before he can pull back. He’s too eager, but once he’s tasted Donghyuck it’s hard to stop doing so. Hard to stop wanting him. "Kiss me again." He doesn't wait for Donghyuck to answer him, instead closes the distance between them and backs Donghyuck up against the brownstone's wall. "I wasn't done," he murmurs breathlessly, nudging his nose against Donghyuck's, until he’s looking down at Renjun, eyes sparkling even in the low light. "I'm not done." He's done waiting, surely, but he's nowhere done with wanting to kiss Donghyuck.

Renjun doesn't bother memorizing this one; he did that properly enough last time. Now he just lets himself feel, and god if it doesn’t feel a thousand times better than the first one. Donghyuck’s hands wrap around his waist, far too overt for where they are standing, and pulls him closer, mouth greedily opening against his, threatening to swallow him whole. Renjun allows him to do so, because the feeling of Donghyuck’s mouth pushing insistently against his is far too addicting for Renjun to consider impropriety. What a deliciously overwhelming feeling it was, to close his eyes and let himself fall through time, tethered to the earth only by the feeling of Donghyuck’s mouth against his.

At some point, Donghyuck starts smiling into the kiss and Renjun pulls back, curious. “Why are you laughing?” He asks, plucking up the last remaining shreds of his courage to smooth his thumb over Donghyuck’s cheek. It’s just as soft as he’d thought it would be, and Renjun is shocked at himself when the urge to make his mark on Donghyuck’s glowing skin rises in him, violently and unlike anything he’d felt before. Dangerous, dangerous.

Donghyuck’s smile grows between them. Dusk had barely fallen, but Renjun half expects the sun to start rising behind him because of how bright Donghyuck’s smile was. The dark tends to swallow all light, but Donghyuck seems to defy that very base rule of physics. “I don’t know,” Donghyuck admits, his fingers dipping dangerously into Renjun’s waistband, sending fire coursing through his veins in just that small gesture. “I’m just happy.”

Renjun can’t stop the blush this time and a smile grows on his face, echoing Donghyuck’s. “Me too,” he says quietly, before blinking in shock at the admission that had passed so easily through his lips without even thinking about it. “Oh.”

“What?” Donghyuck asks, eyes widening.

Renjun stares at him. “I’m happy,” he says softly. “It’s a strange feeling.” He doesn’t know how long it’s been. Maybe he never had been. He certainly had never felt this feeling before.

🃏

Renjun gets the telegram, delivered by a bright-eyed boy, two weeks later. He stares down at the creamy paper, heart thudding. It had been almost half a year since he had left his last career - whatever that meant - behind and he’d known he’d get found. He just hadn’t expected it to be so soon.

The letter is in code, and before Renjun would have been able to transcribe it in his head, but it’s been too long now and his skills are rusty. He spends ten minutes hunting around his apartment for a pen that works so he can decode the message.

When he finally manages to do so, staring at the letter in shock, his heart rockets up to his throat. They’d found him.

It was only a matter of time.

The bistro Renjun meets his old coworker at is almost full to the brim, jazzy music pouring from the corner and the sound of laughter ringing in the air, accompanied by the tinkling of glasses and cutlery.

_“It’s been a while.”_

Renjun looks up to the grin aimed at him, and straightens his back as he sits down, opening the menu casually, taking a moment to gather his thoughts, as well as his limited French vocabulary.

_“And here I was hoping I would never have to see you again,”_ Renjun says neutrally, glancing up from a full spread of pictures of delicious looking eggs. The French feels clumsy and heavy on his tongue, but it’s better than speaking Russian in an American cafe in broad daylight. _“Ten.”_

Ten flashes a toothy smile at him, his lips twisting into a smirk and his eyes dark and steady _.“You wound me, comrade.”_

_“And you vex me,”_ Renjun responds, folding up his menu and staring at him. _“Why are you here?”_

Ten opens his mouth to answer, but before he can, the waitress comes over to take their order. Renjun waits for her to leave before settling his hands on his thighs, waiting for Ten to respond. Ten’s eyes flash in knowledge and he responds in kind, straightening himself, readying himself. Renjun has no less than six weapons upon his person, hidden despite the coat and tight slacks - and he knows Ten is no less armed. He’s not sure what this meeting entails, but a visit from Ten was never a good omen.

_“Sicheng misses you,”_ Ten says finally, an echo of laughter in his voice as he watches for Renjun’s reaction carefully. _“You ran away before he could say goodbye.”_

Renjun’s jaw tightens and he struggles to keep his expression neutral. _“I handed in my resignation,”_ he says. _“Sicheng wasn’t there and I couldn’t wait around for him to return.”_

_“You don’t resign from our kind of job, Renjun,”_ Ten says, smile vanishing. _“You work until you die. You signed a contract with the devil and the devil does not let people go.”_

_“I have no intention of returning,”_ Renjun says coldly. The waitress returns with their food and Renjun casts a smile up at her in thanks before turning his gaze back to Ten. _“And unless you are here to drag me back - which is a fight you will not win - I will stay gone. I’m sure Sicheng won’t care so much.”_

_“Ah, that’s where you’re wrong, little dragon,”_ Ten smiles. _“He wants you back desperately, you know. You really were quite special to him.”_

Renjun can’t hold back the snort. Sicheng had been at the very least his employer, at the very most, his mentor, but nowhere in the decade that Renjun had known Sicheng, did he ever think Sicheng thought of him as more than a tool to do his bidding. _“Are you here to carry out his injunction then?”_ He pokes idly at the poached egg atop his toast until the white gives way to bleed yolk all over the bread. _“As expected, a dog will never change his breed.”_

Ten snarls, teeth bared at him for half a second, proving Renjun’s point marvelously, before his jaw snaps shut. _“You are an infuriating little insect. Do you know how far I had to travel just to give you this foolish message?”_ He digs his hand into his pocket, flinging a letter carelessly across the table.

Renjun raises an eyebrow at him before plucking the letter up and opening it. When he does, his heart stops.

_My child,_

_I’m writing this to you sitting at the very desk you used, on the day you left me. I should have known, I should have guessed. You were always too good for this life, and one day the light in you would not have been able to bear the darkness that surrounds you._

_I am not prone to sentimentality, nor do I care much for nostalgia, but as I sit here, I cannot help but remember the day I met you. You were the brightest child I have ever known._

_I will find you, you must know this. There is nowhere on this earth you could hide from me, my child. But trust when I say, I have no intention of bringing you back to my hold, in chains or in handcuffs. If you ever do venture back to your homeland, know that you will be received with open arms. If you ever require my aid, know that I will wrench this world in half for you._

_Forgive me for exposing my weakness when I preached many times to you that you must never show it. You were my pride. You were a good soldier for your country. You_ are _a good man._

_I hope that wherever the wind takes you, you will remain safe and that no matter how many years pass, you will never forget your home._

The letter is unsigned, but there is no doubt in Renjun’s mind as to who wrote it. He traces over the familiar characters, forcing down the block in his throat with great difficulty before looking up at Ten who is grumpily poking at his bacon.

_“Sentimental old bastard, isn’t he?”_ Ten asks without looking up. _“I told him a letter wouldn’t persuade you to come home.”_

Renjun folds the letter up carefully, smoothing down the creases before sliding it into his coat pocket. _“Sicheng knows that. Thank him for me, will you? For everything?”_

Ten meets his eyes before huffing a laugh. _“You’re the lucky one, little dragon. There is no one else in the world Sicheng would do that for.”_

_“I know,”_ Renjun says. He thinks back to the day he had met Sicheng, in the middle of a flower field, the outline of mountains in the distance on the way back from school. Sicheng had looked down at him with an odd little smile, had held out his hand and had promised Renjun the world. Had only asked for his life in return. Renjun, with dead parents and a meaningless existence, had gladly given it up, had gladly grasped the devil’s hand and had gladly gone with him.

And, in the end, the devil had let him go.

🃏

“Tell me about your childhood.”

Renjun glances at Donghyuck in surprise. They’re walking through Central Park on a sunny Sunday afternoon, arms linked together, and Renjun takes a moment to appreciate the way the sun’s rays streaming through the leaves hit Donghyuck’s eyes and cheeks in the most attractive way before answering.

“Why? It’s not as if it’s anything terribly exciting.”

Donghyuck sighs. “Well, you know my scrubby childhood days, wasting my time away in the south before I ran away to the big city to make it big.”

“I wouldn’t ever dare refer to anything pertaining to you as scrubby,” Renjun says, and Donghyuck flashes him a pleased grin.

“You charmer, you’re getting better at that.” He nudges Renjun’s shoulder with his own. They’re almost the same height, and while Renjun hates anyone pointing out his lack of height, he has to admit that he gets a faint thrill when he looks up into Donghyuck’s eyes, caused by the less than half of an inch difference between them. Donghyuck pushes his bottom lip out in a faint imitation of a pout. “Tell me something, anything.”

Renjun bites his lip and looks down at the pavement, thinking. He can give no indication of his real childhood, but he can give Donghyuck a half truth.

“My great grandmother was a peach farmer,” Renjun starts slowly, gathering the threads of his lies together to tie into a neat little knot to hand in a prettily wrapped present to Donghyuck. “She was raised by her father since she was young to run the farm - an altogether unheard idea at that time in China. And she passed that onto her child, my grandmother.”

This much was true. His great grandmother _had_ run a peach farm and she had done exactly as Renjun had said. But where the story deviated from the truth was that Renjun’s grandmother had soon migrated to Russia after Renjun’s mother was born. Renjun resembled his heritage in his face and his language only, rusty as that was. But if Donghyuck asked to hear it, he would not know the difference.

“Tell me more,” Donghyuck presses, eyes alight. In that moment, Renjun feels a seed of doubt broach his mind. Why does Donghyuck care so much about where he came from? Why does Donghyuck want to know so badly? No one else had ever cared.

He hums, thinking. “I didn’t have an exciting childhood. I went to school, helped my parents with the farm, grew up.”

Donghyuck’s eyes crinkle up into a smile. “How did little Renjun Huang end up on this side of the world then?”

Renjun returns his smile, feeling his suspicion vanish under a wave of fondness. Sicheng would kill him for being so complacent, but on such a sunny afternoon, linked arm in arm with a beautiful man, Renjun cannot summon any vigilance. “I wanted to see the world, and I ran and ran until the wind carried me here. There’s nothing extraordinary about my life.”

They come to a stop by the side of the trees, and Donghyuck reels him closer by the hold he has on his arm. “You are extraordinary to me,” he says quietly, eyes flicking over Renjun's face, his hand coming up to cup his cheeks. “The very fact that you entered my life is nothing short of extraordinary.”

“You charmer, you,” Renjun says, a little unsteadily because he still isn’t used to Donghyuck’s outright declarations of affection. Renjun tugs him closer, stepping back as he does so they enter the tree cover, semi-hidden from prying eyes. “Kiss me?”

Donghyuck’s eyes build in fondness, until it threatens to spill out like a waterfall. “With that smile, sweetheart,” he whispers and his breath washes over Renjun’s neck, warm and comforting. “You can have whatever you want.”

Renjun pushes down the blush, rolling his eyes before kissing Donghyuck, sweet and lingering. Donghyuck laughs against his mouth for a second before he returns it, eyes fluttering shut when their lips meet.

They kiss against the tree, shadowed by the leaves and branches, and in that moment, with his arms wound around Donghyuck's waist, and his heart filling up to the brim with dangerous, treacherous love, Renjun believes he's the happiest he's ever been.

🃏

The happiness covers him like a bubble, blowing up pink and bright over the next few weeks and Renjun floats in it, feeling his wariness fade bit by bit as the days pass.

But as is so often Renjun's life, reality brings him screeching back to earth.

He's at Donghyuck's diner, late after closing one night, and they're on their way to catch a late night movie when Donghyuck excuses himself to make a phone call in the back. Renjun waves him off, choosing to stand by the door and watch the stars pass in and out of the cloud cover.

Donghyuck doesn't return for a while, and Renjun finds he has to use the bathroom. He casts a look at the door, making sure it's locked from the inside before heading to the back, looking for the bathroom.

He hears Donghyuck distinctly speaking into the phone, and intends on passing by him to the bathroom at the back before his name passes through Donghyuck's lips and he pauses.

"Renjun is _fine_ ," Donghyuck is saying when Renjun slowly stops in his tracks, backing up to hear what comes next. Donghyuck's back is to him, facing the wall, and even though Renjun can't see his face, he can see the tension curling Donghyuck's back, can hear the stress in his voice. "I'm telling you, you have nothing to worry about."

No matter how hard he strains, Renjun can't hear what the other side of the conversation is, and he waits for Donghyuck to respond, mind swirling in confusion. Who could Donghyuck possibly be speaking to about him?

"I've got it under control," Donghyuck snaps. Renjun's never heard him like this. Even in their arguments - few and far in between as they were - Donghyuck had never sounded like this. "Stop interfering and I'll give you what you want. You keep butting your head into my business and everything's going to end up fucked over."

Renjun flinches when he slams the phone down and only has a second before his feet carry him out, back to the front, hurriedly plucking his notepad out of his coat pocket and flipping through the pages while he leans against the front door, trying to seem flippant and ignorant.

Donghyuck takes a minute to come back to him and when he does, his face shows no sign of his previous mood.

"Are you ready?" He asks cheerfully, eyes bright as he takes Renjun's hand in his own.

Renjun forces a smile, straightening up from the door. "Of course," he says, interlacing their fingers together when Donghyuck finishes locking the door. "We can't miss the movie."

"I've heard it's a better Casablanca," Donghyuck tells him conspiratorially, eyes sparkling with mischief, and Renjun cannot reconcile this Donghyuck with the one he'd witnessed before. What had happened for Donghyuck to sound so angry? Why had he said Renjun's name? Donghyuck glances at him when Renjun says nothing and nudges him with his shoulder. "Are you refusing to answer because I dared slander your favourite movie?"

Renjun blinks, jerking out of his reverie. "Of course I am," he says indignantly, hoping Donghyuck doesn’t notice it sounding weak. "How dare you?"

Donghyuck's head tips back with the force of his laugh. "My apologies," he says. "Don't hate me too much, darling."

Renjun smiles faintly, watching Donghyuck pull them ahead, happy and bright and so, so duplicitous. "Never," he says softly. His chest pangs and Renjun closes his eyes for a second. His escape bag, shoved in the back of his closet, packed with a weeks worth of clothes, a months worth of money and bullets, flashes in his mind. The time to leave is soon coming.

Renjnu opens his eyes and follows Donghyuck down the street while the stars sparkle overhead, already knowing his fate and laughing down at him for his ignorance.

🃏

Desire is a funny thing.

It is not something Renjun has ever experienced before; neither directed at someone nor directed at him. Desire has many facets to it, many different branches that stem from that single pinpoint, many ways to fall. Desire can mean love; in the best of cases, it can mean wanting the best for someone, wanting to stay with them for the rest of their days, simply _wanting_ them, in all their prettiness and ugliness. Desire can also mean lust, where all you want is to be swallowed up by that _one_ person for one night. It doesn’t matter what happens next, doesn’t matter what comes to light in the cold dawn after the sweat has cooled from their collarbones and the sheets have fallen to the floor, rumpled and used. All that matters is what happens in those few hours, in the silent watch of the night. Desire when it pertains to lust means not caring about the consequences, only craving the present.

It had never been something Renjun was familiar with, and so to see Donghyuck look at him with desire so clear in his eyes was an odd experience. He thinks he falls somewhere in between the two definitions he had carved out for himself. Desire means wanting Donghyuck in every way possible even when he knows it cannot happen.

Desire is also duplicitous.

Desire makes a fool out of humans. Because even Renjun, for all his training, all his vigilance, falls prey to desire.

The phone call fades to the back of his mind under Donghyuck’s spell, under the press of his pretty lips, under the soft touch of his hands. Renjun falls.

Dangerous, dangerous.

Oh, how dangerous desire can be.

🃏

"Would you like to come in?"

Renjun wouldn't have agreed if it had been a normal night. But Friday nights were rarely normal anymore. Friday nights were their nights, when they visited the music bar or went to the movies, when they spent time together, when Renjun allowed himself to get drunk, still always hyper aware of the knife sheathed on his legs.

But this night, especially, was nowhere near usual.

He and Donghyuck had left the club late at night after having danced to all the songs they could have, until the alcohol had risen up their bodies, making their minds dizzy and their words spill easier out of lips that were usually so hesitant to say what they were thinking.

Donghyuck was far more drunker than Renjun, having gleefully consumed all the drinks he could after his stage, and Renjun had insisted on accompanying him back to his home. He wouldn't have if he'd known it would end up like this, with Donghyuck slipping his fingers into the belt loops of Renjun's pants, tugging him closer until he was pressing Donghyuck against his apartment door, leaning over him a little from the way Donghyuck was slumped against the door. He wouldn't have gone out at all tonight if he'd known it'd end up like this. Because Donghyuck was already so hard to resist and now, like this, with his lips slick from amber liquid and his eyes dark and wanting, he was doubly so.

"I shouldn't," Renjun whispers. His body sways against Donghyuck's without his permission and he can't help his eyes fluttering shut when Donghyuck's hand travels up his shirt, tracing over the planes of his stomach boldly, the pads of his fingertips burning against Renjun’s skin.

"Do you want to?" Donghyuck asks and god, he's _beautiful_. So dangerous and so tempting and so, so beautiful. His other hand comes up to cup Renjun's jaw, thumb tracing over his bottom lip, so boldly that Renjun stares at him, shocked. "If you want to, you should."

"Donghyuck-"

"One night," Donghyuck whispers, leaning closer to him, his mouth hovering over Renjun's, almost touching, but not quite yet. So close, but so far away at the same time. "We don't even have to do anything." His eyes flick up to meet Renjun's. "I just want to spend one night with you."

Renjun stares down at him. He's faced guns and torture and Sicheng on his worst days, but sometimes he thinks Donghyuck is the most dangerous thing in his life. The phone conversation he’d overheard rings dully in the back of his head like a church bell. "You act like we won't ever get this chance again."

Donghyuck's eyes darken. "You never know what's going to happen," he says softly and his lips brush Renjun's. "This could be our last night on earth."

"How morbid of you," Renjun says lightly, struggling to breath in the tension that threatens to suffocate him.

"Renjun," Donghyuck starts, and whatever he’s about to say, whatever honey poison words he’s about to spin to entice Renjun, Renjun doesn’t want to hear it. He loses his willpower and slams Donghyuck up against the door, kissing him hard, licking into his mouth without a moment's pause. If he were less drunk, Renjun wouldn't have done so, but under the haze of alcohol, all he can think about is how lovely Donghyuck would look with his mouth absolutely ravished. Donghyuck lets out a pleased noise and wraps his arms around Renjun’s neck, allowing Renjun to slide his hands down his thighs and haul him up so his thighs lock around Renjun’s waist.

“Oh,” Donghyuck gasps, as Renjun shoves the apartment door open, carrying him through the darkened rooms. “You’re strong.”

“And you’re _vexing_ ,” Renjun responds, ducking back when Donghyuck tries to kiss him. He’s not about to trip over wayward furniture and give them both concussions because he couldn't keep his mouth away from Donghyuck for two minutes. “And so drunk.”

He nudges open a random door, hoping it’s the right one, and is relieved when it turns out to be Donghyuck’s bedroom. He might be strong enough to pick Donghyuck up, but they’re almost the same size and he’s tiring quickly.

“Does that matter?” Donghyuck gasps as Renjun sets him down on the bed, none too gently. “I want you.” His hands scrabble up to Renjun’s collar, yanking him closer so their mouths slam together, hard and desperate, clashing in the most painful way.

“Fuck,” Renjun gasps, adjusting the angle as he presses Donghyuck flat down against the mattress, straddling his legs. Donghyuck hums, pleased.

“Exactly.” He sighs, rucking up Renjun’s shirt and scraping his nails up Renjun’s spine until he shudders, back bowing under the pressure of Donghyuck's fingertips. “You’re such a smart man.”

“And you’re pretty,” Renjun murmurs without really being aware of what he’s saying. Donghyuck lets out a shaky laugh before reinvesting himself in ridding both of them of their clothes as fast as possible.

"Renjun," Donghyuck whispers. "Please- fuck me."

If Renjun were a touch soberer he would have noticed the heaviness in Donghyuck's eyes, would have heard the desperation - so unlike Donghyuck - in his tone. But Renjun isn't and right now all he can think about is doing exactly what Donghyuck had asked of him.

The rest of their clothes come flying off, and Renjun feels a rush of satisfaction when Donghyuck tosses his head back, unabashedly moaning when Renjun nips and kisses down his neck, teeth sinking in enough to leave a mark, enough to leave an indelible stain. There's a very big possibility he won't remember all of this, every intimate detail tomorrow morning, and doing this, raking his teeth hard across Donghyuck's collarbone until he's crying out, is a very good way to remind himself.

Donghyuck pulls back from the kiss, breathing unsteadily. "Renjun," he whispers, and there's a wretched plea in his voice. His lips part in silent supplication and at that precise moment, the open curtains in the room flutter aside to allow the moonlight to stream in. It paints itself in gleaming silver-white streaks, crossing Donghyuck's face, turning him into something past simple beauty, into something almost godlike in its ethereality.

"You're beautiful," Renjun blurts, staring down at him. It seems as if the whole world has gone into slow motion around him, blurry and incomprehensible, Donghyuck's face, his eyes, gazing back at him the only clear thing left. "Donghyuck- you are... _beautiful_."

Donghyuck swallows and something that looks like pain crosses his gaze. "Kiss me," he whispers, an order that's half breath and half plea and Renjun is helpless to do anything but obey.

It feels like fire licking up his skin, slow and assured, building and building, and just before it gets to be too much, just before it’s about to tip off the precipice of overwhelming, Donghyuck's presence breaks it down. Any previous sweetness, any previous hesitance, it all vanishes as they devour each other, licking and biting and scratching. Somehow it feels like Renjun is getting drunker under Donghyuck's touch, and when he's flipped onto his back, Donghyuck hovering over him, it’s like the world tilts off its axis for a second before righting itself again.

Donghyuck stares down at him as he sinks down on Renjun's cock, his fingers digging into the space between Renjun's ribs as he does so, his eyes never once leaving Renjun's. Renjun gasps, hands flying up to steady Donghyuck, wrapping tightly around his waist, thumbs digging in so hard he wouldn’t be surprised tomorrow if there was a thumbprint tattooed onto Donghyuck’s skin.

" _Fuck_ ," Donghyuck breathes, rolling his neck back in a slow swivel as he settles his hips flush against Renjun's. "Fuck - _Renjun_."

"Yeah," Renjun agrees nonsensically, and then the haze gets to be too much, and the way Donghyuck looks is too beautiful, and he can't handle it any longer and he plants his feet flat on the bed, tightens his hands around Donghyuck's waist, feeling a faint thrill when the soft skin gives way under his fingers, and thrusts up.

Donghyuck gasps, falling forward to plant his hands beside Renjun's head. Renjun does it again, pleased with his response, and Donghyuck's expression crumples, eyes glazing over, and lurches forward to bury his face in Renjun's neck, his fingers digging into the meat of Renjun's shoulder.

Donghyuck's cries, directed straight into his ear, spur him on and Renjun fucks him again and again, rolling his hips up as best he can with Donghyuck's weight on him, wanting to hear those sounds again and again and again and-

"Renjun," Donghyuck whines, his teeth clamping around Renjun's neck, biting so hard it's a wonder he doesn’t draw blood. "Fu-fuck, oh god."

Renjun wraps one arm around Donghyuck's back, holding him close, and he thrusts into him again, his free hand pressing into the plush muscle of Donghyuck's ass, digging in for purchase. "Donghyuck- sweetheart," Renjun gasps, the pet name slipping unbound from his lips as the fog thickens, carrying him away to some unknown plane where all that exists is Donghyuck and Donghyuck alone.

Donghyuck pulls his face up, and Renjun is shocked to see him teary, but before he can even ask, Donghyuck rakes an unforgiving hand through his hair and drags him in for a painful kiss. Renjun returns it, his hips slowing down to a slow roll, fingers still digging into Donghyuck's skin.

When he pulls away to sit up, knees sliding further apart on the bed, Renjun lets his feet fall apart, letting Donghyuck take him deeper. "You're -" he starts, hand coming up to cup Donghyuck's cheek. Donghyuck blinks and the unshed tears come rolling down his cheeks.

"You're fucking me that good," he responds, a flash of an exultant smile sent Renjun's way before he rolls his hips down again, picking up the pace so quickly, it makes Renjun dizzy. Donghyuck’s head falls back, hands coming up to clutch Renjun's as he rides him hard and fast. Renjun bites his lip and tries not to cry out at the feeling. He’s not sure Donghyuck’s neighbours would be altogether pleased if Renjun joined in the increasingly loud symphony of noises Donghyuck was making.

Donghyuck's brow furrows. "Renjun-" he pants, raising himself up and slamming back down, and despite the wave of pure pleasure it sends rocketing through Renjun's body, he can tell Donghyuck is tiring. "I want to- I'm going to-"

"Yeah, sweetheart," Renjun whispers, shuddering all over, and wraps a hand around Donghyuck's cock, twisting slow and torturous, teasing Donghyuck. Donghyuck whimpers, hips twitching up into Renjun’s hold and then away as if he doesn’t know where to seek pleasure from. "Come for me."

Donghyuck's moan rises in pitch before breaking into a sob as he comes, his back arching, and come splattering over Renjun's hand. There, bathed in the moonlight, body a beautiful wave, so wrecked and desperate, Donghyuck looks like an angel. A fallen angel - ready to lead Renjun into sin. How quickly Renjun would follow, how quickly he would fall.

Dangerous, dangerous.

Donghyuck's head falls back down and he pants, meeting Renjun's eyes. "Come on, sweetheart," he whispers, rolling his hips down despite the over stimulation he must be feeling. "Let go.” Renjun lets the noises he'd been holding back loose, groaning as he chases his release, snapping his hips up into Donghyuck. The fire builds again, slow and sure, licking along his veins and tightening in his stomach until he's coming, hard, slamming up into Donghyuck one last time before he falls back on the bed, panting.

Donghyuck pulls himself off slowly, wincing, and when he collapses on the bed next to Renjun, condom disposed of, the first thing Renjun does is cup his chin and kiss him. Donghyuck sighs, eyes fluttering shut, and he rolls over to wrap his arm over Renjun's waist as they kiss, slow and sweet and nothing like what it had been between them mere seconds ago.

"You're so beautiful," Renjun whispers when he draws back. Donghyuck swallows, eyes flicking all over Renjun's face, and he cups Renjun's cheek, thumb stroking gently over Renjun's cheek. Renjun doesn't fancy it's as soft to the touch as Donghyuck's is, but Donghyuck doesn't seem to mind as he kisses him again. "In all the places I've been, of all the people I've seen, you remain the most beautiful sight."

Something flashes in Donghyuck's eyes, but Renjun is far too used to not understanding his expressions nowadays to feel bothered when he can't decipher it. "Hardly," Donghyuck says, curling closer to Renjun. "I don't think you understand; with that smile, sweetheart, you could set all the sights in this world on fire.”

🃏

Renjun wakes to the smell of pancakes.

His eyes slam open and he jerks up in bed, hunting for the knife usually situated under his pillow before remembering where he is. Renjun sits up slowly, taking in Donghyuck’s bedroom, so much more different in the light of day.

There’s sounds coming from the kitchen and the smell of coffee, strong and dark, wafts over to Renjun, and in response his stomach grumbles. Renjun peels himself gingerly off the bed, casting a look at his tight slacks and shirt from last night - now both very crumpled and discarded by the window - grimaces, and chooses to hunt for Donghyuck’s spare pajamas instead.

Donghyuck looks up from the coffee pot when he enters, smiling brightly. “Good morning,” he says, holding a fresh cup of coffee in Renjun’s direction in greeting. “I was just about to wake you up.”

Renjun is surprised when Donghyuck reels him in, fingers twisting in his shirt for purchase, for a kiss. “What was that for?” He asks when Donghyuck draws away, the curves in his cheeks digging in deeper when he smiles.

Donghyuck shrugs, moving back to the stove. “Felt like it,” he says easily. He moves aside so Renjun can get a look at the pan. “I’m making you pancakes,” Donghyuck says, when Renjun peeks over his shoulder. “Much less sweeter though, I know you didn’t like that last time. And,” he gestured to a large bowl of shredded potatoes. “Hash browns.”

“Is that what they’re called?” Renjun hums to himself, peeling away from Donghyuck to peer at the bowl, before stiffening in silent shock at himself. Any proper American would have known the name for them. He casts a quick glance behind him to Donghyuck to see if he had noticed his slip, but Donghyuck is humming a happy tune to himself, back turned away from Renjun as he flips the pancake in the air, catching it expertly.

He’s slipping and it’s getting dangerous. At this point - far before now, even - Renjun would have left, would have packed up his life and left no trace that he ever existed behind. He’d known it was a bad idea to get involved with Donghyuck the way he did, but now- now it was _hard_ to leave.

Renjun watches Donghyuck over his food as they settle down to eat in the midwinter morning, the cool air wafting into the apartment, and admires him silently, all the while fighting down the heartache in his chest that was telling him the end was coming soon.

“What?” Donghyuck asks, leaning over to place a large piece of hash brown on Renjun’s plate. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

Renjun twists his lips wryly at having been caught. _I’m trying to memorize you_ , he thinks _._ “Just admiring your beauty,” He says instead. A flush of pleasure steals over Donghyuck’s apple cheeks and he takes Renjun’s hand.

“Well, give me a smile sweetheart,” Donghyuck murmurs, placing his chin on his fist, and staring back at Renjun, amusement and fondness dancing in his eyes. “I’ll admire you right back.”

🃏

The phone calls fades to the back of Renjun’s head with every passing week that remains unthreatened. He watches Donghyuck carefully, but at no time does Donghyuck betray the same emotions he had that night. And like a fool, Renjun allows it to pass by him, considers it a byproduct of a bad day, and moves on.

He invites Donghyuck to his apartment for the first time on Valentine’s Day, almost nine months after they had met.

Donghyuck had disappeared to use the facilities in the bookstore by his house before entering, shooting Renjun a horrified look when he’d dryly told him that he would not have been offended if Donghyuck had to piss in his bathroom.

“How could I do that on my first arrival to your apartment?” Donghyuck gasps, linking their elbows together as Renjun leads him up the endless flights of stairs to his door. “It must be made of gold with the way you’ve protected it.”

Renjun rolls his eyes at him, lips twitching in amusement. “I’m wary about my space,” he says, an explanation that isn’t one. Donghyuck doesn’t need to know how paranoid Renjun is about people in his place, doesn’t need to find out how many weapons he has stashed around the apartment, doesn’t need to know anything at all. Perhaps not the best way to build trust in a relationship, and while Renjun’s not certain of what Donghyuck’s reaction would be to his past, he _is_ certain that he doesn’t want to find out.

They walk onto the landing in front of Renjun’s door, and the first thing Renjun notices is that his doormat is askew. He frowns down at it, fixing it with his boot, trying to continue looking nonchalant, but his heart kicks into high gear, the blood starting to pound hard in his ears. The second thing he notices is that the lock looks newer, as if someone had broken it open and replaced it. Except Renjun had never done such a thing. The third thing he notices, when he enters his apartment, is that something was terribly wrong.

There was nothing that could be seen outright, no furniture tipped over, no books misplaced, but _something_ was off. Renjun swallows, shifting his stance, readying himself for a fight. Donghyuck hasn’t said a word since they entered, but Renjun is too tense to turn around to check if something was wrong.

Then the phone rings, startling the silence.

Donghyuck lets out a startled noise, but Renjun strides over to his telephone, not looking at him as he does so.

“ _Is this Minzhu?_ ” A harsh guttural voice snarls in Russian as soon as Renjun picks up.

Renjun stares at the floor, terror and adrenaline pouring into his veins like a drug at the mention of his alias. There should have been no one who knew that name - no one who knew this number anyway. “Who is this?” He demands, voice shaking, grateful that in that moment, he didn’t default to Russian.

There’s a beat of silence and then “ _You’ve been found out_.” And then the call cuts off.

Renjun slams the phone down, whirling around to his room.

“Renjun?” Donghyuck calls. “What’s wrong?”

Renjun doesn’t answer, hauling his clothes out of the wardrobe and flinging them into a bag, stuffing his gun and spare knives into it as he goes. The spare bullets from the medicine cabinet go into his pockets and his emergency cash into the side pocket of the bag.

“Renjun?” Donghyuck calls again as Renjun walks back out to the living room.

“I have to leave,” Renjun mutters, throwing his bag on the table and bending down under the table to hunt for the knife strapped there. “I’m sorry I-”

“I’m afraid I can’t let you do that, sweetheart.”

Renjun frowns, giving up on finding the knife for that moment and turning around. “What do you mea-” His voice cuts out when he sees Donghyuck standing behind him, head tipped sideways, his eyes cold with a gun levelled at Renjun’s chest.

Donghyuck smiles, but it’s nowhere near as warm as the ones he usually directs at Renjun. “You’re going to stay right here until the police come,” Donghyuck says sweetly, words dripping of poison as he steps closer. “And then you’re going to jail, _spy_.”

🃏

Renjun stares down the barrel of a gun and understanding crashes into his chest, like a wave dragging him out to sea. He’s kicking and screaming, but reality is unforgiving. “You sold me out.”

Donghyuck’s teeth flash in a grin, his hand unwavering holding the gun pointed at Renjun’s heart. For a brief second Renjun entertains the possibility that he might miss, but he immediately dismisses it. What a silly notion. “It’s just business, baby. Don’t take it personal,” Donghyuck says and it’s like he’s shoving poison down Renjun’s throat. How else was he supposed to take it if not personal? What were they if not for intimately _personal_? “You _were_ a spy for the other side, after all.”

Renjun clears his throat, grasping at the last strands of steadiness, willing his body, his mind, to carry him through this, even when his soul is splintering around the edges, ready to fracture at the slightest touch. “When did you know?”

Donghyuck’s grin fades, to something sadder, fainter. “I knew the moment you stepped on American soil,” he says softly, eyes far away for a second as if reminiscing - and Renjun _hopes_ \- before he snaps his gaze back to Renjun. “Do you think you would have been allowed a hundred miles of our shores without us knowing? You never had a chance, not when you walked into that diner of mine.”

In a moment of madness, Renjun meets his eyes, smiling, forgetting that he’s looking at a man that’s going to kill him and instead looking at the man who taught him there was still beauty left in this world - who _was_ the most beautiful thing in this world that Renjun had ever encountered. Forgetting in that moment that they were the same person. “Of all the diners in all the towns in all the world…” He trails off, chest aching with the possibility of who they _could_ have been, if Renjun wasn’t Renjun and Donghyuck wasn’t Donghyuck.

Donghyuck’s eyes shine with the threat of tears and Renjun’s echo it, his throat tightening unpleasantly. “You had to walk into mine,” he finishes softly. “Romantic lines aren’t going to stop me sweetheart, I already called them. I have a duty to my country. Just like you have with yours.”

“Had,” Renjun corrects but his hand slides surreptitiously up his thigh into his pants pocket where his pen sits. Has always sat, since the day he set foot on Amerian soil. He won’t let them take him alive. Renjun will never let a word they want to hear slip through his mouth and he has no interest in being party to the infamous American interrogation. One click, one stab into his thigh - he’ll be dead before he hits the floor. It’s a fate better than what awaits him after the handcuffs have snapped into place around his thin wrists. A worse fate than what he could have had with Donghyuck but Renjun is quickly coming to realise how much of a pipe dream that was. “I _had_ a duty - I came here to escape it.”

“And you met your fate at the end of it,” Donghyuck says and his words are neutrally cruel but his eyes shimmer in pain, tears welling up in them. They both know what’s coming, what’s inevitable. It’s only a matter of time.

Renjun wonders why he can’t feel any animosity towards Donghyuck despite what he’s facing.

“I met _you_ at the end of it,” He whispers. In the distance he hears sirens, and he knows Donghyuck hears them too with the way his hand tightens around the gun and his stance shifts. Renjun considers mincing his words, hiding the truth that had been hidden under his tongue like a razor, bleeding his mouth out slowly over the months that had passed since they’d met, but Renjun has nothing left to lose, and now he’s poised to lose the last thing that matters to him. He might as well say it. “You saved me, Donghyuck Lee, do you know that? I love you so much for that. I love you so fucking much.”

Donghyuck’s lips trembles despite how hard he’s pressing down on it and despite his best efforts, his eyes well up too much and a tear slides down his cheek, leaving a glittering path behind. “You were a good fuck, I’ll give you that. But you’re delusional if you think you meant that much to me,” he says but his voice is too shaky and his hand trembles for a second and Renjun doesn’t _believe_ him. Not when Donghyuck is looking at him like that, like Renjun is his last light on earth and he’s starting to flicker away.

“Tell me,” he presses, taking a step forward. The voice in his head screams at him for going _closer_ to a bullet but Renjun doesn’t care. The end of the gun presses into his sternum and he sees Donghyuck waver. “Donghyuck, _tell me_.”

“I can’t.” Donghyuck shakes his head, just a fraction but it speaks volumes. “I can’t - I can’t tell you and then-”

The words pass unspoken between the two of them. _I can’t tell you and then give you up_. Renjun presses against the gun. “Tell me anyway.” He tries for a smile and knows it fails when Donghyuck chokes on a quiet sob, more tears slipping down his cheeks. “You’re signing my death certificate with your own hands, you owe me this at least.”

Donghyuck’s jaw clenches, and his eyes slip shut for a fraction of a second. There’s a beat of silence and for a second Renjun doesn’t think he’ll say it, thinks he’ll really let him go without giving him this. But then Donghyuck opens his eyes, tears clinging to his lashes and he breaks.

“I love you,” Donghyuck gasps, shattering to pieces between them and Renjun can’t do _anything_ about it, can’t bend to pick him and hold him delicately between his fingers because there’s a gun pointed at his chest and Donghyuck’s the _one_ doing holding it. But in that moment, Renjun’s pretty sure he would risk the gunshot to stop Donghyuck’s grief. Perhaps, love always did win. Perhaps it did always make a fool of them in the end.

“I’m so _sorry,_ ” Donghyuck whispers brokenly, tears streaming down his face. “I love you so _much_ , I do, I love you, I love you, I-”

Renjun can’t take it anymore. He steps forward and shoves the gun down until it’s pointing at the floor, wraps his free hand around Donghyuck’s neck, yanks him closer and kisses him.

In that moment everything melts away and he forgets to care. Forgets to care about the police flying closer with every second, carrying his doom with them. Forgets to care about the gun Donghyuck had turned back up, shoved into his rib cage even as he holds Renjun close with the other hand. Forgets to care about the pen pressing into his thigh, ready to kill him at a second’s press. He forgets everything because he’s holding Donghyuck in his arms, he’s kissing Donghyuck even here, at the end of all things.

Their lips drag against each other, bruising and painful. Renjun wrenches his hand in Donghyuck’s hair and Donghyuck responds by biting down on his bottom lip, his hand curling around Renjun’s waist, bruising and hard. He wishes he could drop his weapon - for definition of weapon that his pen is - and hold Donghyuck closer. He wishes that that this won’t be the last time they do this, despite every nerve, every cell in his body alight, burning in the knowledge that this _will_ be the last. Will be the last time he gets to hold Donghyuck. Will be the last time he gets to kiss him. _Last time, last time, last time_ Renjun’s mind chants and he chokes on his own sob, eyes sliding shut to stop himself from crying.

It’s not a nice kiss and it’s not meant to be either. It’s a kiss that screams of blood, of war, of a thousand painful things both of them have felt lying awake at night in an empty bed and have never said out loud. It’s a kiss meant to leave a mark.

It’s a kiss to remember.

Donghyuck wrenches himself away and in the next moment his gun digs into Renjun’s rib cage, a startling reminder of where they are, a forced stop so that Renjun can’t follow him, can’t chase him down and kiss him until they both know nothing else. Donghyuck’s lips are bitten raw and his cheeks are blotchy and his eyes are red from the still streaming tears and despite it all, he’s _still_ the most beautiful man that Renjun has ever known.

“I’m sorry, but I have to do this,” Donghyuck whispers gazing at him. They’re still so close, Renjun can feel his breath hit his skin with every trembling breath Donghyuck takes.

Renjun meets his eyes and he knows, no matter what he says, no matter how much he tries, Donghyuck will not change his mind. But Renjun wouldn’t have fallen in love with him if Donghyuck wasn’t the type to hold to his convictions like there was a sword hanging above his head.

And Renjun makes his decision, digs out the pen and holds it up to his throat. Donghyuck’s eyes widen, his eyes tightening around Renjun’s waist. “Sorry, sweetheart,” Renjun says, voice trembling too much to be blasé. He never could emulate Donghyuck, no matter how much he tried. It always came across too sincere, too full of feeling to pass as anything else.

“But I’ll never let them take me alive.”

“Renjun, you _can’t_ ,” Donghyuck gasps, terror shooting through his voice. It’s kind of funny if Renjun thinks about it; that mere moments ago, Donghyuck was ready to hand Renjun over to his reaper with a venomous smile. Had been willing to feign ignorance at whatever fate Renjun would meet after the bars of a prison cell had slammed behind him. But place the possibility of Renjun’s death right in front of him and Donghyuck was suddenly terrified.

How funny indeed, what love did to them.

Renjun shakes his head. “I won’t let this happen to me, I _won’t_.”

“Renjun-”

Renjun steps closer, letting his desperation show, laying all his cards out on the table and letting Donghyuck have the power over him. “Donghyuck, you have a choice.”

The sirens get closer, louder and Renjun’s heart slams in time with it.

“W- what do you mean?” Donghyuck asks, trembling.

Renjun knows it won’t work and yet, he tries anyway. “Let me go.” But even before he’s finishing the last word, Donghyuck’s shaking his head and Renjun tries again. “Or come with me.” Silence. Donghyuck stares at him. They’re so close, it’s killing Renjun to feel him against his own body and not hold him, so he does. Cups his cheek with the hand not holding his own murder weapon at his neck, and meets his gaze. “Or watch me die,” he breathes out finally. “Because I won’t go with them. You know that, darling. I’d rather die than let them ever take me.” His thumb strokes over Donghyuck’s cheekbone before uttering his final option. “Or you kill me.”

“You can’t make me choose,” Donghyuck whispers, voice breaking over the words, pain etched into every curve of that beautiful face. “That isn’t a choice. That’s a death sentence.”

“You handed me that death sentence,” Renjun reminds him and is savagely pleased for a moment when Donghyuck sobs, hurt fracturing through him. Renjun smiles and it _burns_ spreading across his lips. The first time he smiled in years was in front of Donghyuck, was _because_ of Donghyuck. How fitting that his last was the same too. “Though, I don’t think I’d mind dying by your hands,” he murmurs. “If I had to die, you would be the one to end it.” He smirks, lips aching where Donghyuck had dug his teeth in, fierce and unapologetic, just as Renjun had loved him. Still loves him. “You always did have too much power over me.”

The sirens are right outside his home. There’s yelling and Renjun hears them thudding up the stairs. He doesn’t have much longer. He digs his hand harder against his neck and Donghyuck takes a sharp inhale, shattered and breaking, his hand coming up in an aborted motion as if to stop him.

“Darling, you have to choose. Or I will,” Renjun whispers, staring at Donghyuck’s face hard, taking in every last detail of his face, trying to preserve it in his memory. If he dies, this is the last thing he wants to see. “We’re out of time.”

Knocking on the door, loud and furious. More yelling. It all fades away to Renjun, like he’s sunk underwater, the water sliding like a guillotine over his head. He stares at Donghyuck, knowing that whatever it is that passes those lips - those perfect, pink lips - it will be the thing that saves him from drowning.

Donghyuck lets out a broken gasp. His eyes harden. He takes a trembling breath as he opens his mouth. Renjun stares into his eyes. The last thing he sees.

“I-”

**Author's Note:**

> does renjun stab himself? does donghyuck let him go? does he run away with him? does donghyuck end up killing renjun? it's up to you to decide...
> 
> let me know what you thought! (and what you think happened)
> 
> [twt](https://twitter.com/_donghyuck_)   
> [cc](https://curiouscat.me/hyxcheis)

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [king’s gambit](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20449073) by [pyrophane](https://archiveofourown.org/users/pyrophane/pseuds/pyrophane)




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